


Old Acquaintances

by clgfanfic



Category: War of the Worlds (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-11-30 00:24:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The team is trying to set up Mrs. Pennyworth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Acquaintances

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Green Floating Weirdness #11 under the pen name Llyr Chaves.

_"I'm sure they'll be justly rewarded."_

 

Ironhorse held the heavy black door of the official limo open, waiting for Mrs. Pennyworth to climb into the back.  Once she was settled he closed the door and walked to the driver's side window.

          "You have your orders, Corporal," he said to Goodson.

          The Omega medic nodded, an only half in-check smile flashing his teeth.  "Yes, sir."

          "Carry on, Goodson."

          Ironhorse watched the corporal pull out of the parking area and head down the driveway, hoping that they'd made the right decision.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Suzanne, I really don't think this is any of our concern."

          The microbiologist paced across the living room.  "Paul, I know my uncle.  He and Aunt Martha were close, but it wasn't like her death came as a surprise.  She was sick for years, and it's been almost a year now."

          "Granted," he said from the winged-back chair.  "But I don't think he'd appreciate us playing… Cupid."

          Suzanne stopped in front of the chair, frowning.  "I'm not suggesting we play _Cupid_.  I just think that they'd both enjoy an evening out.  That's not playing Cupid."

          Ironhorse's eyebrows rose in questioning arcs.

          "It's not."

          The black arcs rose farther.

          Suzanne tossed her hands up and paced to the fireplace.  "Okay, so maybe it is… a little.  But there's nothing wrong with it."  She turned to face the officer.  "They know each other.  They respect each other.  They even like each other.  So what's the big deal?"

          A shrug.

          "I'm not reserving a chapel, Paul.  I'm just asking for an evening.  Dinner.  Theater.  Nightcap."

          Ironhorse pushed out of the chair.  "Suzanne, I can't stop you, so I'll make sure the security's in place.  But don't say I didn't warn you."

          "I knew you'd agree," she said with a smile.  Stepping forward, she placed a brief kiss on the soldier's cheek.

          Ironhorse watched her go, a somewhat stunned expression on his face.  "Agreed?  Suzanne!"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Mrs. Pennyworth studied herself in Suzanne's full-length mirror.  The russet silk dress was beautiful.  Her hair looked nicer than it had in years.  The manicure had left her hands almost delicate.  The pearls set off the dress's neckline perfectly, and the garnet ear-rings matched the fine green and gold scarf that swept over her shoulders, highlighting the dress.  It was perfect.

          "Oh, Suzanne, I don't know about this."

          "What?  You look stunning," the microbiologist said from her position standing behind her.

          Mrs. Pennyworth's gaze dropped to the dresser top.  "I'm too old to be… dating."

          Suzanne reached out and squeezed the older woman's shoulders.  "You are no such thing.  And it's not a date.  It's an evening off.  A thank you for everything you do."

          Greta glanced up, meeting Suzanne's gaze in the glass.  "I know that's what you say, but I also know that's not the whole truth.  You and Colonel Ironhorse are playing matchmaker."

          A blush and Suzanne stepped away from her appraising expression.  She took a seat on the foot of her bed.  "In a manner of speaking, I guess I am."  She looked up, meeting the older woman's eye.  "But it was my idea.  Paul only went along with it to get me out of his hair."

          Mrs. P smiled.  "Oh, I'm sure he could have found a way if he didn't want to go along.  You're both sweet."

          Suzanne pushed off the bed.  "But you do like Hank, don't you?"

          Mrs. Pennyworth turned back to the mirror and fiddled with the scarf.  "Of course I do.  He's a fine officer… a gentleman."

          "And?"

          "And… a handsome man."

          Suzanne smiled.  "But…?"

          Mrs. Pennyworth gently touched her hair.  It was swept up, a few silver-blonde wisps framing her face and neck.  It was a style for a younger woman, but, she admitted silently, it didn't look half-bad on her either.

          "But he was a very happily married man.  Martha was a wonderful woman.  It hasn't even been a year…"

          Suzanne nodded, stepping up to squeeze her shoulders.  "They were very much in love," she said.  "And I think they kept that love alive their entire marriage, but Aunt Martha didn't want him to be alone.  We talked about it every time I went for a visit."

          Mrs. Pennyworth smiled wistfully.  "My husband was the same, but when he died…  I guess I felt that I had been blessed, and it would be… selfish to expect it to happen again.  I decided not to look."

          "We're not trying to force you into anything.  Or Uncle Hank.  I just wanted you to have the opportunity to… explore the possibilities."

          "That's awfully sweet, dear.  But I'm not sure that both of us aren't too old to face… romance, again."

          "Then how about a good friendship?"

Mrs Pennyworth considered that, then nodded.  "I think that would be nice."

          "Good, now let's get down there before Paul sends Omega up to find us."

          Mrs. P laughed.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Ironhorse poured the general a small glass of bourbon and handed it to him.  Wilson accepted it with a grateful expression.  He took a swallow, then settled onto the couch.

          "So, Colonel, whose idea was this?"

          Ironhorse felt his ears begin to burn.  "Well, sir, I guess… I—"

          "Suzanne means well," Wilson interrupted, watching a flash of relief cross Paul's face.

          "Yes, sir."

          "And it's not that I don't appreciate her concern for me, you understand, but…"

          "Yes, sir?" Paul prompted.

          "It's just that I'm getting too damned old to be acting like… like a younger man."

          Ironhorse stood and turned to the fire to hide his grin.  Squatting in front of the snapping hearth, he busied himself with rearranging the logs and adding another.  "You're not that old, sir."

          Wilson chuckled.  "Well I sure as hell feel like it."

          "I'm sure Mrs. Pennyworth would understand if—"

          "Absolutely not.  If Suzanne has gone to all this… trouble, then the least I can do is enjoy the evening."

          A lopsided grin tipped Paul's mouth to the right.  "I'm sure Mrs. Pennyworth will enjoy it as well, sir."

          "She is an amazing woman."

          "Yes, sir."

          "I remember working with her in the Forties."

          "Oh?"

          Wilson cleared his throat.  "That was a long time ago."  He stood and paced across the room.  "She's certainly done an amazing job around here, hasn't she?"

          "I won't disagree, sir."

          Wilson walked to the fireplace, joining the colonel.  Ironhorse stood.  "Paul, is she just doing this to appease Suzanne?"

          Ironhorse's eyes rounded, his eyebrows rising.  "Huh, no, I don't think so.  sir."

          "She _wanted_ to do this?"

          Ironhorse nodded.  "She seemed excited about the opportunity, sir."

          Wilson looked down at the civilian suit he wore.  "I'm not in the same shape I used to be."

          "You look fine, sir."

          Wilson's gaze came up, meeting Paul's.  "You really think so?"

Biting back the grin, Paul nodded seriously.  "Yes, sir."

          "Uncle Hank," Suzanne said, walking into the living room and heading for her uncle.  Giving him a hug, she stepped back and surveyed the man.  "You look wonderful!"

          Wilson blushed.  "Huh, thank you, Suzanne.  I—"  He stopped, his eyes meeting's Mrs. Pennyworth's as she walked in to join them.  She smiled and his eyes wandered up, then down and back up again.  Mrs. P blushed.

          He stepped around Suzanne, walking to the older woman, taking her hand.  "Greta, you look… stunning."

          A rose flush colored her cheeks.  "Why, thank you… Hank.  And Suzanne is right, you look very nice, too."

          Wilson puffed.  "So, it's going to be quite a night."

          Mrs. P nodded.

          "Colonel, I assume you have a driver for us?"

          "Yes, sir.  If you'll just follow me."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Smoothing the dress over her knees, Greta glanced up at Hank.  He was looking as nervous as she felt.  Catching her look, he smiled.

          Taking a deep breath, she said, "I feel about Debi's age."

          Wilson chuckled.  "Me, too."

          "Suzanne means well."

          "I think the Colonel isn't keeping her busy enough."

          It was Greta's turn to laugh.  "Nothing can occupy a woman's mind to the extent that she forgets about romance, Hank."

          "Thanks.  That's probably true."  He pulled his shirt cuffs down.  "And I was serious back there, you really do look wonderful."

          "Thank you," she said, dipping her head.

          Wilson reached out and laid a hand over hers.  "Maybe they're smarter than we are."

          "Maybe they are," she said softly.

          Wilson lifted his arm, letting it rest along the top of the seat behind her, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder.  She moved slightly closer.

          "Corporal, where are we going for dinner?" Wilson called.

          Goodson glanced into the rearview mirror and almost smiled.  They made a cute couple.  "Armadio's, sir."

          "Oh, my," Mrs. P breathed.  "I'm not dressed for a five star restaurant."

          "Oh, yes you are," Wilson assured her.

          "And I have your tickets for _Phantom of the Opera_.  The curtain goes up at eight so you have two hours for dinner, sir.  You'll be stopping by Del Veccio's after the play, sir."

          "Thank you, Corporal."

          "They thought of everything, didn't they?"

          Wilson nodded.  "They were very thorough."  He looked down at Mrs. P.  "Just like the well trained professionals they are."

Reaching out with his free hand, he took Greta's and raised it to his lips, giving the back of her hand a light kiss.

"I'm sure they will be justly rewarded," she said softly.

          "Oh?"

          "I think it would be nice if Suzanne was given some time off…"

          Wilson's eyes widened.  "Oh?  With Colonel Ironhorse?"

          "Oh, no," Greta said, smiling.  "Suzanne and John Derriman have been… getting to know one another… slowly.  Maybe they could use an evening like this?"

          He squeezed her shoulder and she slid closer.

          "I think that might be arranged," he told her.  "Now, about Paul…"

          Goodson glanced into the rearview mirror and smiled.  He didn't think the colonel and Dr. McCullough had taken this possibility into account…


End file.
